


Seeing Red

by fallen_arazil



Series: Sex and Cigarettes [2]
Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Blow Jobs, D/s, Dirty Talk, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Pre-Canon, Rough Sex, Under-negotiated Kink, Verbal Humiliation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-22
Updated: 2019-02-22
Packaged: 2019-11-03 22:11:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,751
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17886068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fallen_arazil/pseuds/fallen_arazil
Summary: This is another fic about blow jobs. Among other things."You gonna be quiet for me, Johnny?" Arthur murmured, and John shuddered, because Arthur only ever called him that anymore when he was fixing to do somethingmean.





	Seeing Red

**Author's Note:**

> I just ... *gestures* I don't even know? Everyone in this fic is disgusting and awful and I'm kinda super into it. I've been writing [Samaritan](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17168072) since mid-December and it's all about angst and loyalty and self-sacrifice, so I guess I just needed to purge all my pent-up aggression. I hope y'all find it as fun as I did.
> 
> For the record, there are some references to [Blowing Smoke](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17845550) in here, but since realistically we're all here for the porn, background reading is helpful but not required.

"John!" Tessie exclaimed, falsely bright, when her eyes lit on him. "Can I bum a cig? Miss Grimshaw's tryin' to make me cut back—its giving me the jitters!"

Beatrice Thurgood had only been with the gang three months, and John doubted she'd be in it much longer before Miss Grimshaw tossed her out. All she did was smoke, complain, and drape herself dramatically over any available surface like a Victorian waif. If she hadn't been so fine looking, Dutch himself would likely have thrown her out weeks ago.

John puffed obnoxiously on his own cigarette, making a show of thinking about it. "Hmm … nah, I don't think so."

Tessie pouted prettily, but it didn't move John overmuch. "Aww, c'mon John. Joshua done told me you got a bunch when you two robbed that store over in Opportunity."

It hadn't been that many, actually, just what was on the shelf—ten packets grabbed as an afterthought once they'd emptied the register, and even those split between the two of them. John had already smoked half of one pack, and two of the others were to give to Arthur when he got back to camp. "Go get some off Josh, then," John replied, because Joshua, like several men in the camp, was quite obviously sweet on her, despite her being an unrepentant harlot and as dumb as a post.

"He lost his whole take in the river on the ride back, the fool," Tessie replied, rolling her eyes. "C'mooon, John," she whined, in a wheedling tone that made John wince, "I'd go get some myself, but Miss Grimshaw won't let me have a horse!"

"That sounds like a real problem," John drawled unsympathetically, pointedly blowing smoke out between them.

Tessie glared for a moment, cheeks flushed, before her expression shifted into something shrewd, eyes narrow and lips pursed. "I'll blow you for 'em."

If it had been a girl other than Tessie, John might have been surprised by the offer.

He cocked his head and gave her an assessing look—she preened for it, pushing her tits together with her arms and pouting her lips. She wore rouge on her mouth, which was something of a novelty. She was definitely pretty, and it _had_ been a long time since he'd had a woman's mouth on his dick.

"One pack," he offered, his tone mostly disinterested.

"Two," Tessie countered immediately.

He considered a moment. "… Done."

There wasn't much privacy in the camp, but on the other hand no one really cared—Tessie led him out only a few yards into the woods before dropping to her knees and pulling at the laces of his trousers. She didn't make a show of it, just went down on him quick and businesslike and John had a flash of something like sympathy for Arthur's occasional boredom, because when he came it felt more like rubbing one out before bed than a real sex act.

"You're kind of a cold fish, you know," Tessie accused, after she had spat into the leaves, already pulling open her precious cigarettes. John actually chuckled, because usually folk were calling him a _hothead_.

"And you're kind of easy" John replied, mildly.

"Whatever," she rolled her eyes, blowing smoke out over her shoulder, "you're the one what took advantage of a _desperate woman_."

"Yeah, well," John shrugged, as he tied up his flies, "I'm a bad, bad man."

It was kind of mean-spirited, but by no means out of the ordinary, when the others poked at him about it around the campfire that night. Arthur had only gotten back a few hours before, and everyone was apparently eager to catch him up on the _gossip_.

"So, John," Joshua drawled, lips curling in a smirk, but John could see how riled he was, "I hear you been passing time with Tessie."

"Reckon you still got a chance with her if you want it, Josh," John replied with a roll of his eyes. "She offered to suck me off for two packs of cigarettes."

"Ain't that a funny thing," Arthur mused, "because I can see her smoking right now by the other fire."

The men around the fire started jeering him at that, asking over top of one another for filthy details, and John felt his cheeks flush slightly in spite of himself, "I guess you're lucky she only asked for two," John replied, a little sharply, as he dug the last two full packs out of his satchel to toss at Arthur, "otherwise I would have had to pay her out of your share."

Arthur caught the cigarettes, eyes crinkled at the corners with something that was a little too dangerous to be mirth. "Oh no," he said tonelessly, voice dry as the desert, "what am _I_ gonna have to trade you for these?" and the the men around them dissolved into wild hoots of laughter.

John hadn't thought anything of it. He'd brought Arthur cigarettes because he liked to see Arthur smoke them, and they both knew it, so his repayment was the brief little thrill he got in seeing Arthur light a cigarette that John had stolen for him. He'd gone to sleep with it out of his mind, and woken up with Arthur's left hand clamped tight over his mouth, thumb tucked under his chin.

He reflexively gasped in surprise but couldn't bring in a breath, Arthur's grasp airtight. He panicked, flailing, but Arthur was straddling him, and just clamped his knees down around John's thighs when he tried to twist away, dropping all his weight down on him so that they were pressed together from groin to chest.

It took several seconds for John to remember that he could breath through his nose—that he could breathe at _all_ , with all of Arthur's weight on top of him. Arthur waited for him to go still before he spoke, looming over John in the dark, the full moon the only illumination.

"You gonna be quiet for me, Johnny?" Arthur murmured, and John shuddered, because Arthur only ever called him that anymore when he was fixing to do something _mean_. He nodded frantically, eyes wide, but Arthur didn't release his mouth right away—instead, he sat up and stroked his other hand along John's collarbone slowly until it was curled around his neck, just under his jaw.

He didn't bear down, but he _could._ Arthur was probably strong enough to strangle a man to death one-handed. There was absolutely no reason that thought should have made John's hips twitch up against the weight pressed over them, but it did.

"Yer disgusting, you know that?" He said, blandly, his thumb absently stroking up and down the side of John's neck. "Letting that cheap slut suck you off for a couple packs of smokes. You that desperate for it, Marston? Hell, what am I saying—horny little shit like you would probably hump a greased knothole." He took both his hands away and John gasped, dizzily, for a moment before Arthur leaned down and kissed him.

It was less a kiss than an attack, all teeth, scraping across the corner of John's mouth and his bottom lip, biting down on his tongue. All John could do was open his mouth and _take_ it, and wasn't that always the case when it came to Arthur Morgan?

He didn't even notice Arthur's hands moving until they circled his wrists, yanking his hands up beside his head, pushing them hard against the thin pillow. Arthur pressed his cheek against John's as he whispered in his ear, "You keep 'em right there, boy. You know what'll happen if you don't."

That was worse than a threat of violence, because what Arthur would do was _leave_.

"Did you like having pretty little Tessie on her knees for you?" Arthur asked, conversationally, as he sat up and pushed John's undershirt up his chest. "You ain't never had much of a way with women, after all. Guess it's no surprise you had to pay for it."

"Fuck you," John hissed, reflexively, because Arthur hadn't told him he couldn't.

Arthur grabbed a nipple between two fingers and twisted it until John was writhing. "Careful now," he cautioned, voice dangerous, "a fella might think you wanted him _gone_ , you start talking like that."

"No! No, I—" John keened when Arthur put a hand on the bulge in his cotton drawers, squeezing hard.

"Then again, maybe you had enough for one day," he mused, as he unfastened the buttons. "I mean, you ain't seventeen anymore. Maybe one a day is all you're good for."

" _Arthur_ ," John whined, arching his hips as much as he could with Arthur's weight on his legs, and Arthur pulled the last few buttons free with one hard jerk, John's rigid prick immediately slapping up against his belly.

"John, you filthy fucking _tramp_ ," Arthur sneered, and when John lifted his head he saw what Arthur had.

There was a streak of rouge smeared across the underside of his dick.

"Shouldn't be surprised," Arthur growled, "dirty son of a bitch like you, of course you didn't clean up after getting your dick sucked by a whore." Arthur yanked down his drawers and fisted John painfully tight, his fingerless shooting gloves chafing at the sensitive skin as he pulled from base to tip in one long stroke, the rouge vanishing onto the leather. John felt the bizarre compulsion to _apologize_ , but before he could, Arthur ducked his head and put his mouth on the head of John's cock.

John bit down _hard_ on the meat of his palm to keep from yelling, hoping it didn't break Arthur's rules because if the other man stopped now he might _actually die_. Arthur's large hands gripped his hips hard enough to bruise, pinning him down against the bedroll as he slid his mouth over John's prick. Arthur had never—and his blood felt like it was on fire when he realized that wasn't quite true, because Arthur had clearly _done this before_.

Every breath John took came back out as a low whine as he tossed his head back and forth on the pillow, hair sticking to the sweat on his face, pinned by Arthur's hands and Arthur's orders, while the other man swallowed him down almost to the root, hot and tight. Pulled back off with a pop, lips wet.

When he scraped his teeth lightly across the weeping slit John all but screamed, heels kicking in the dirt, hips pushing up helplessly against Arthur's restraining hands.

"Goddamn it Marston, I told you _quiet_ ," Arthur snarled, and in a blink he had whipped off his shooting gloves and shoved them right between John's teeth. John bit down helplessly, tasting sweat and gunpowder, dirt and gun oil. It tasted like Arthur, like Arthur's fingers were in his mouth, and he groaned.

"You moan like a whore," Arthur sneered. He pushed John's legs further apart, thumbs digging in deep on the soft insides of his thighs. "Maybe I should _treat_ you like one."

John watched blurrily as Arthur put two of his own fingers in his mouth, wetting them, John making no connection until Arthur dropped the hand between John's legs and pushed the pads of those fingers against his asshole.

The feral, animal part of his brain erupted in a panic and he flailed, trying to pull himself further up the bedroll, trying to get _away_ , but Arthur's grip on his hip was iron, holding John exactly where he wanted him as Arthur pushed his middle finger up inside, grinding deep. Even the leather clenched between John's teeth was not enough to muffle him, and Arthur slapped his other hand back over John's mouth when he outright _howled_.

It _burned_ , too much, too dry, too bizarre and intimate, but at the same time his gut felt molten and his cock jerked violently against his belly, dripping steadily. It was strange and embarrassing and Arthur's intense, assessing gaze made him feel like every inch of his skin was on _fire._

"Look at you," Arthur murmured, his tone oddly reverent, almost awed, "you're a goddamn mess."

John arched against the hand over his mouth, clenched down on the finger in his ass. He _felt_ like a mess, like he was simultaneously melting into nothing across the ground but also so tense he was trembling. Like if Arthur took his hands off him he would simply cease to be.

"You still thinking about Tessie?" Arthur murmured, eye glittering dangerously in the dark. "Thinking about that pretty red mouth on your dick?" and he laughed, low and dark, when John frantically shook his head. He slid his finger out of John's ass and came back with two, the stretch of it aching. He leaned down over John, close enough that they could have been kissing, if Arthur's hand hadn't still been over John's mouth.

"Maybe you're thinking about _mine_ ," Arthur whispered, pressing up inside him in a way that made John's legs tremble. "Did you like that, Johnny? Having your filthy fucking prick in my mouth?"

His fingers pressed up against something that made John's whole body jerk.

It was too intense to be pleasure, but it wasn't _pain_ , it was _indescribable_ , a spasm shuddering from the bottom of his gut to the tips of his toes. His prick jerked against his stomach, spurting fluid, and he clenched his teeth on Arthur's gloves, groaning from the bottom of his chest.

"Oh, _there_ it is." Arthur cooed, smirking, and pushed up against it hard, putting a knee on John's hip to hold him down when he thrashed. "You know, John, one'a these days," he twisted his hand inside, thumb pressing up under John's balls, pressure from both sides, "if we can get far enough away from camp, I think I'll put you on your knees and fuck you up the ass until you _scream_."

John came untouched. It felt like it lasted forever, muscles clenching down so hard on Arthur's fingers it felt like a spasm, mouth falling open, gasping against Arthur's hand, the leather in his mouth sticking to his tongue.

He lost time.

When he blinked away the blackness it was to find Arthur's hard prick right in front of his face. Arthur was straddling John's chest, flies open only enough to get himself out, jerking off roughly with the hand that had been clamped over John's mouth. He caught both John's wrists in his other hand when John tried, clumsily, to touch him.

"You think you get to touch me?" He hissed, leaning over to pin John's hands in the dirt above his head. John must have spat out the gloves at some point, he could could feel them beside his face, wet against his cheek. Arthur's dick was inches from his lips. "After you went around sticking your dick in any hole you could find? What makes you think you _deserve_ —" and with a grunt, he spent over his own hand and John's open mouth.

John licked clean the fingers Arthur pressed against his tongue.

"Good boy," Arthur murmured, letting go of John's wrists to stroke his hair, almost petting.

Arthur rolled off to the side after a moment, laying flat on his back, panting and sweaty. John was nearly naked, his undershirt rucked up under his armpits and his drawers tangled around one ankle. Arthur was fully clothed, missing only his gloves, which were stuck to John's cheek. Arthur picked them up after a moment, poking a finger through the center. John had bitten clean through them.

John, exhausted and giddy, couldn't help but start to laugh at the put-out expression Arthur made. "It ain't funny," Arthur grunted, scowling mostly for show. "These cost me fifteen dollars."

"Guess you shoulda stored 'em somewhere safer then," John giggled.

"That so?" Arthur said, rolling up onto his elbow to peer down at John. "Usually you're a bit more careful with things I put in your mouth."

John felt his flaccid dick twitch against his thigh. Fuck, when it came to Arthur, he was as easy as Tessie.

"Just so you know," Arthur added, conversational, as he laid back to do up the buttons of his trousers, "I don't want to hear about you fucking around with Tessie again. You get me?"

 _I don't want to hear about it_ was not the same as _don't do it_ , but John could read between those lines. "Yeah," he replied, arching his back in a spine-popping stretch, "I get you."

 


End file.
